How the Grinch Stole the Beatles!
by CremeTangerine
Summary: After the Grinch writes a screenplay in which the Beatles have been banished from the earth, two Beatlesque spirits come haunting to show him the error of his ways.


Most folks on this Earth  
Like the Beatles a lot.  
But the Grinch, who hailed from  
The Fabs' homeland, did not.

Well, that's not quite true.  
No, please don't get me wrong.  
He hated the Fab Four,  
But still liked their songs.

"If only they weren't such  
Unpleasant old geezers!  
I wish I could pluck them  
Away with my tweezers!"

The Grinch cursed the Fabs.  
Then he got an idea.  
The Grinch got a  
Wonderfully awful idea!

"I'll write up a script  
And I'll excise them from it!"  
Then he gathered his thoughts  
In a dimwitted summit.

"I'll kill the lads off  
With a globe-spanning black-out.  
I'll let their songs stay,  
But kick Lennon and Mac Out.

And Ringo and George can  
Go sod themselves too!  
Then I'll tart up their tunes  
With a voice fresh and new."

The Grinch grabbed a pen  
And he started to write.  
He crafted a hero  
Who fell off a bike.

This lad was named Jack,  
And he lost his front teeth  
In the blackout, but still  
He looked better than Keef.

And though he was toothless  
He kept in his brain  
A memory of all of  
The Beatles' refrains.

Then Jack went out busking  
And sang for Ed Sheeran.  
And Ed said, "Good God!  
What is that that I'm hearing?"

"They're songs that I wrote,"  
Lied the fame-hungry Jack.  
"Here, I'll play you another!"  
And he sang, "Get Back!"

And so the plot ran,  
With our Jack gaining fame.  
And the world loved these  
Beatles-free songs all the same.

The Grinch set his pen down  
And grinned a mean smile.  
"I'll finish this after  
I nap for a while."

He lay down his head  
And he started to rest.  
Then he woke with a shock  
And cried, "Fuck! It's Pete Best!"

A strange ghostly shape  
Floated over his bed.  
The Grinch shrieked in fear,  
Then recoiled with dread.

"Shut yer mouth!" cried the specter.  
"My name is not Pete!  
It's John Ono Lennon.  
Now get on your feet!"

The Grinch cowed and shivered,  
But did as instructed.  
Then he spied a twin phantom  
John's shape had obstructed.

"Bloody Hell!" groaned the Grinch.  
"It's George Harrison's ghost!"  
"Got that right," George replied.  
"And you thought I was toast!"

"You can't kill us off,"  
Mocked John Lennon with scorn.  
"'Cuz our songs would be dead too  
Had we not been born."

"John's right," George agreed.  
"We were _part_ of those songs.  
We wrote from experience.  
You've got it all wrong!"

"But I gave you cameos,  
So stop with your rages!"  
The Grinch grabbed his script  
And he skimmed through the pages.

"I've written a big scene with John,"  
The Grinch said.  
"Our Jack will discover  
You're not really dead!"

"I know," John derided.  
"You kept me in college,  
Where I studied art.  
But that wasn't the knowledge

"I craved. That was sex,  
Drugs and sweet rock-and-roll–  
They messed up my brain  
But they nurtured my soul.

"You haven't the right  
To make _my_ life's decisions!"  
The Grinch offered meekly,  
"I'll make some revisions."

He picked up his pen and he  
Crossed the scene out,  
Then he leafed through his script  
While George eyed him with doubt.

"Here, look!" cried the Grinch.  
"George, you go to a pub,  
And drink pints with old Ringo!  
You call this a snub?"

"I do," George replied.  
"You portray us defeated.  
And anyway, this goddamned  
Scene gets deleted!"

"Paul's scene gets cut too,  
Though I'd call that a save,"  
John chuckled and cried out,  
"Vera! Chuck! And Dave!"

"I was _proud_ of that scene,"  
The Grinch boasted, unshamed.  
"I thought Paul might _like_  
To call his dogs those names!

"And anyway, what makes you  
Think they'll get cut?"  
The Grinch challenged curtly.  
"You've made this all up!"

"We come from the future.  
We're real, not fictitious,"  
George said. "And now _you_  
Get to time-travel with us!

"We'll show you the way  
The world _really_ would look,  
If your stupid vision was  
One for the books."

"A world without Fabs?"  
The Grinch bit back a grin.  
"No John, George or Ringo?  
No Paul and his din?"

"No Silly Loves Songs,"  
John read'ly agreed.  
"And no Coke or ciggies.  
Love is all you need."

"No Coke?" the Grinch laughed.  
"That was just a dumb joke."  
"Tell the folks in Atlanta,"  
George scoffed. "They're all broke."

"J.K. Rowling's not doing well  
Either," John noted.  
"She's back on the dole  
Since her book's been garroted."

The Grinch puffed his chest out,  
"At least I curbed smoking!"  
"Like hell," George replied.  
"You forgot about toking.

"Pot's running rampant.  
Now everyone's high  
And spliffs are unfiltered  
So tokers still die.

"And let's not forget  
That by scrapping tobacco,  
You've messed up John's lyrics.  
You've made them all wacko."

John turned to the Grinch  
With his mouth opened wide,  
Then yawned, rubbed his eyes,  
Stretched his arms out, and cried:

"I'm so tired.  
I'm feeling so upset.  
Although I'm so tired,  
I'll…"

A hush filled the room.  
The Grinch shrugged in defeat.  
"Okay, it's a plot hole.  
But still, ain't it sweet?

"A world without ciggies?"  
John scowled at him, galled.  
"Your plot holes could fill  
The entire Albert Hall!"

"Come on," George said, resting  
His hand on the Grinch.  
"We'll show you a world  
That just might make _you_ flinch.

"A future that John and I  
Conjured for fun.  
And it's Grinchless! Or nearly so.  
C'mon – let's run!"

In the blink of an eye,  
The three men journeyed forth  
And regrouped by a house  
Tucked away in the North.

The Grinch eyed the home  
With a look of inquiry,  
Then smiled. "This is where we filmed  
'Bridget Jones Diary'!"

"Think again," George replied.  
"_You_ were never invited.  
Mike Leigh wrote that screenplay.  
And now he's been knighted."

"Mike Leigh?" the Grinch scoffed,  
"Oh no! How could _that_ be?  
He's fine, but he's nowhere  
As clever as me!"

"What's it matter?" John asked.  
"One script's good as the next.  
And _his_ won an Oscar!  
Oh, shit, you look vexed!"

"An Oscar? Goddamn him!"  
The Grinch grew quite jealous.  
"So what?" challenged George.  
"Oh look – Julian Fellowes!"

The Grinch eyed a man  
Slinking by like a tabby.  
"What's _he_ ever done  
Besides write 'Downton Abbey'?"

"He's made lots of films  
With Hugh Grant," answered John.  
"He wrote 'Notting Hill', and  
Oh, hell, what's that one

"With the weddings and funerals?  
It was such a big hit!"  
John shrugged. "_Ces't la vie._  
That bloke's still just a git."

The Grinch started pouting.  
"_I _wrote that screenplay!  
It was my first success,  
Got me quite a pay-day!"

"Yeah, well," George replied.  
"You should just let it be.  
After all, you still got to write  
'Love Actually'."

"I sure as hell did!"  
The Grinch boasted with pride.  
"Pity it tanked," John remarked,  
Sounding snide.

"But never you mind,  
It inspired other works.  
Like 'Valentine's Day' – now  
_That_ film went berserk.

"Grossed hundreds of millions,  
And launched a franchise  
Of holiday films that will  
Dampen your eyes."

"The critics all hate them,"  
George added. "But still  
They're all box office giants,  
Despite being swill."

The Grinch flushed bright red  
With unmasked irritation.  
"Those films are just copycats –  
Pale imitations

"Of _my_ genius screenplay!"  
He protested back.  
"So what?" John responded.  
"All writers are hacks."

"We just produce product  
That others can use,"  
George noted. "Who cares if it's  
All just a ruse?"

The Grinch grew indignant.  
"How dare you assume  
That artists create in an  
Empty vacuum?

"We draw on our backgrounds  
And our educations!  
We toil and we sweat  
And we find inspiration

"From all we observe  
And from all that we've felt!  
And wrestle with all of the  
Blows we've been dealt!

"My screenplays are different than  
Fellowes' and Leigh's.  
My scripts are unique because  
They come from _me_!"

Then John and George smiled  
At their angry companion.  
"He sees why we're cheesed off,"  
Said John. "Oh, goddamn him!

"He's still only understands  
_Half_ of what's wrong,  
'Cuz his screenplay's  
Only about Beatles _songs_.

"We also made _records_!  
We're not just composers.  
But _you_ trashed our work  
Like a clumsy bulldozer!"

"John's right," George agreed.  
"We were recording _artists_.  
We went to the studio,  
Polished and varnished

"And dinked with our tapes  
And perfected our work.  
But your hero Jack,  
Besides being a jerk,

"Is hardly a singer that  
Pleases one's ears.  
He's fine, but not great.  
So who would want to hear

"A record that featured a  
Bloke like him warbling  
'Here, There and Everywhere',  
'Wait', or 'Oh Darling'?"

"He can't play guitar  
Like my friend Georgie could,"  
Added John. "Or the sitar  
On 'Norwegian Wood'."

"And don't forget covers!"  
George said. "What about  
John's mind-blowing screams  
On our hit 'Twist and Shout'?"

"Can Jack sound like Paul  
When he belts 'Long Tall Sally'?"  
John frowned. "He's no mountain.  
He's hardly a valley."

"And what about Ringo?"  
George asked. "Don't ignore him.  
His drumming's still great.  
And he's _still_ fucking touring

"Though he's nearly eighty!  
So how about that?  
Can you plot a similar  
Future for Jack?"

The Grinch slumped his shoulders  
And stared at the ground.  
He wasn't too pleased  
With the truths that he'd found.

The Beatles were more than their songs.  
They were men  
Who'd made records, the likes of which  
Won't come again.

And even if he didn't  
Care for them personally,  
He couldn't erase their  
Huge impact on history.

He slumped and he sulked.  
He was vexed near to death.  
Then a child scurried past,  
Singing under her breath,

"All you need is love.  
All you need is love.  
All you need is love, love.  
Love is all you need."

The Grinch raised his eyes to  
Appease George and John.  
"You win," he admitted.  
"You're right and I'm wrong.

"A world without Beatles  
Would not be much fun."  
George lifted his head and said,  
"Here comes the sun!"

The sun shone down brightly  
Upon the three blokes.  
The Grinch squeezed his eyes shut.  
And then he awoke.

His bedroom was empty.  
The ghosts were both gone.  
He was there by himself,  
With no George and no John.

"Was that just a dream?"  
He asked, scratching his head.  
He reached for the script  
He had left by his bed.

The words were all crossed out  
With lines of black ink.  
In their space stood this message:  
"Now what made you think

"You could wipe us from history?  
Life is a dance.  
Join in! Grab a partner!  
And give peace a chance."

X

_Inspired by the stories "How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" by Dr. Seuss (1957) and "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens (1843), and by the films "It's a Wonderful Life," screenplay by Frank Capra, Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett (1946), and "Yesterday," screenplay by Richard Curtis (2019)._

This poem contains references to scenes that were deleted from the final cut of the film "Yesterday," in which the character Jack meets George Harrison and Ringo Starr in a pub, and then travels to the Isle of Wight and hears Paul McCartney calling to his three dogs.

If you've enjoyed reading CremeTangerine's (a.k.a. Tracy Neis's) Beatles-inspired stories these past few months, please consider picking up a copy of her full-length novel, "Mr. R: A Rock and Roll Romance," as a Christmas present for yourself or a friend. This reimagining of "Jane Eyre" casts one of literature's most famous romantic heroes – Mr. Rochester – as a British Invasion-era rock star whose band (The Pilots) was inspired by The Beatles. It's available from Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Thanks! – T.N.


End file.
